Wednesday, March 25, 2009

In an interview with the National Post, world-renowned Montreal chef Martin Picard calls maple syrup extraordinary, underestimated, and the most emblematic product you can find in Canada; I love how this guy ticks. There is so much more to this 100% natural liquid gold than most people think and I'm really enjoying this discovery of how it is traditionally harvested and prepared. From the clear, perfumed sap that drips from the tap on the tree trunk, to the seductive dark syrup that coats our pancakes, this is truly Eastern Canada's most valuable resource.

Like Christmas Day for young ones, the goodies just keep coming on our sugaring off adventure. First the venison chili, then the maple cocktail, and now Uncle Marc (who had disappeared indoors for sometime) makes his way down the trail with a steaming kettle in one hand and a can of wooden paddles in the other. He sideskirts the bustling stove area and heads for a patch of clean snow in the woods instead. My foodie instincts propel me, and true to form, I am first on the scene.He's making maple taffy or 'tire d'erable'.

He has reduced the syrup over a steady heat until it has reached the soft ball stage and now pours it on the snow in long strips. The taffy hardens--but not too much--and then is rolled onto a paddle; this lollipop of pure delicacy is handed to the closest awaiting hand.

Hmm, funny how many of those eager hands are little ones.Like mother, like son, it hasn't taken Noah very long to discover this snow buffet. I watch with enjoyment as he cautiously takes a first taste and then observe in horror as he neatly devourers the restof the tire on his stick in one massive sticky bite. As I brace myself for all twenty of his tiny, pearl-white teeth to rot out of his head and drop into the snow, I see him preparing to help himself to another stick and manage to stir myself out of my reverie enough to intervene. He doesn't complain much as I lead him away from the tempting spread, as if he knows it's too good to be true anyway.I proceed to have four more sticks of taffy in a row and not to be a complete spoil-sport, I share some with him. Talk about a double standard!

My youngest child has now succumbed to the warm afternoon sun and is dozing in the jogger stroller. My heart is racing from the pure sugar fix (overload?) and I'm ready to see how the sap is collected. Let's go!

The sun is beginning to slant behind the tall maples as I hop on the back of the ATV and a handful of us set out to collect the sap. Facing backwards as we bump along the 'route', I am looking at a large barrel we are towing on a sled that holds the sap. We stop at various 'checkpoints' along the trail while folks, armed with 5 gallon pails, fan out into the woods. Each and every tin bucket is lifted from the tree and the contents dumped into the 5 gallon pails, which in turn are emptied into the barrel on the sled.From the back of the quad where he sits, Marc is clearly pleased to have the extra help, as he usually does the sap run solo twice a day. Harvest time is a busy time, no matter what type of farmer you are.

When we return to 'camp', I don't stick around to see the sap transferred from the barrel to the stove top, because I'm badly in need of coffee and I'm off to hunt some down. As quickly as it came, my sugar rush has left, taking my energy stores with it. I'm getting old after all. I don't have the stamina of these monkeys picture below; of course, who knows just how much pure maple sugar is running through their veins right now.I'm anticipating a major meltdown from the one in the red jacket before the hour is up.

I'm pleased to see the homestead kitchen is a bustle of activity and there are many signs of a promising full-on feast to come. Baked beans (with maple of course) are bubbling away on the stove, six dozen eggs are stacked on the counter awaiting their destiny, and pork in its many attractive forms is warming, including about five pounds of maple-glazed bacon contributed by yours truly. Some things are essential, and bacon is one of them.My sister looks up from her post behind the griddle where she's turning out apple-cinnamon flapjacks with skill; these are not her first pancakes, people. I'm famished and I could smell these from outside. She doesn't object as I snitch one; it helps to have contacts in the kitchen.

Whether lured by the smells coming from the kitchen or driven by the need for dry feet, a steady stream of people begin to trickle into the house. Soon muddy rubber boots and various other footwear begin piling up on the back porch like wild mushrooms multiplying on a rotten log. To my utter relief, my brother-in-law and resident coffee geek, Kevin, turns up and begins pumping out expertly prepared pots of French Press coffee. I take the second cup (he has dibs on the first), we stir in maple syrup and sigh with pleasure.Then it is time to eat.

Photos are scarce from this point on due to the fact that I am just too busy tucking in to the home cooking and feeding the little ones. This shot of Danny's plate--the first of many--is the only evidence of our sugar shack style meal.There's nothing like fresh air to work up an appetite and this is apparent as we devour the aforementioned baked beans and flapjacks plus scrambled eggs, bacon, ham, bison sausages, coffee cake, bagels and hash browns. Everything is topped with maple syrup; a tribute to our day in the sugar bush.

My hands wrapped around one last cup of coffee and my tummy full of pie, I watch the sun set over the valley that stretches out below the farmhouse. I hear Lynn behind me:

"See why I moved to the country?"

She gestures at the view, but it doesn't require anyone to speak for it. It's stunning and the display has not been lost on me.This whole day had only been a reminder of that I already knew: 'You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl'.

Thanks Marc & Lynn! See you next spring!

Rustic Maple Pecan Pie

I enjoyed my piece of pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and a drizzle of more maple syrup. Why not? Sugaring off comes but once a year.

Thanks for these great posts--they're bringing back memories of our New England sugaring-off weekend last year and the taste of my brother-in-law's homemade maple syrup. I seriously thought about cramming a jug in my suitcase when we came down here....

I've been reading your blog for a while and not commenting, but these two lovely posts must be commented on. You have no idea how jealous you have made me - I want to get on the first plane to Canada and eat as much maple syrup as possible! Beautifully written, pretty pictures, yummy recipes. Thank you.

I think I'll make this for my dad's birthday. He used to head up to the cottage and tap our own maple trees and reduce the sap on a old coleman's stove. He was so proud of his one or two rustic jars of mirky syrup.

Paula and I loved reading your account of the wonderful day at Lynn and Marc's. We too enjoyed ourselves and the delight of home cooking topped off with maple syrup. Lanark County, where we live, prides itself on being the Maple Syrup capital of Ontario, but I can assure you that Marc and Lynn's home-op is as good as anything we've tasted here! Thanks for the fond memories and the great pictures.